


In the Night

by celeste9



Category: Suikoden, Suikoden V
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lymsleia is a captive in her own castle. This is how she spends her days, and her nights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Night

At night, when the room was bathed in darkness but for the occasional glimmer of moonlight, when Miakis was asleep and silent, Lymsleia found her resolve was not as strong as she wished it to be. It was hard to be confident Falena would ever be free of the Godwins, that her family was not completely overthrown, that her brother would come, when there was nothing but the night and the dark stretches of her mind. It was hard, too, to keep her vow to not cry, when images of her broken family kept flooding her thoughts, when Miakis was not there to make an attempt at levity. After that first day, Miakis had done her best to make Lym smile, but her eyes had lost their mirth and her voice its light and joyful tone.

Lymsleia wished for something, anything, to do, to save her family and Falena and to put a smile back on Miakis’s face, a real smile. It was hard enough in the daytime to hang onto even the smallest ray of hope, but in the night…

It was just about impossible.

-

At first, Gizel came every day to the princess’ room. Lymsleia liked to think she and Miakis stayed there of their own accord, but really, she knew, she was confined there. Sometimes Gizel came alone, and sometimes Dolph was with him. It didn’t matter-- she always hated his visits.

“Princess,” came the voice at the door. “I’m coming in.”

Lymsleia sighed loudly and turned her back on the entrant, crossing her arms in front of her chest, as though it were a tremendous chore for her fiancé to even be in the same room as her (though, maybe it was). Miakis almost giggled.

Gizel Godwin seemed not to notice. He bowed slightly, very formally. “Princess, I hope you are feeling better today?”

Biting her lip, Lymsleia answered, “I suppose I feel a bit better, since it’s been… what? Maybe a whole week-- since you murdered my parents.” As she heard Miakis gasp, she glanced sharply at her bodyguard, but the young woman was staring fixedly out the window.

“Ah.” Gizel, however, did not so much as flinch at the barb. “I see your mood has not improved since our last discussion. Perhaps, however, you are well enough to dine with myself and the Queen’s Knights?”

Spinning on her heel, Lym said, “Dine with _you!_ I’d rather eat with pigs! And… and the same goes for Alenia and Zahhak, if that’s who you meant by Queen’s Knights, though I’d sooner call them traitors to Falena!”

“As you wish, my lady,” Gizel replied, his voice calm as ever. “I only thought it would be nice for you to leave your room, now you’re feeling better.”

“As if you even care!”

“On the contrary, Princess. I do care.”

“Only because you need me still,” Lymsleia retorted, her voice not quite catching. She _hated_ this.

Gizel spoke softly. “Yes, Princess. Falena needs you.” He nodded to each girl in turn and exited, the door making not a sound as it closed.

Lymsleia stared at the spot where he had stood moments before. “Yes,” she said, her voice just as soft as she repeated his words. “Falena needs me.” She knew Gizel had won, again. But he would not win forever.

Miakis watched the Princess sadly, but she did not say anything.

-

She did leave her room. She felt… maybe if she left, if she walked the halls of the palace, it seemed less like she was caged and more like she owned the place. Because, after all, she did. Miakis was always with her, and Lymsleia appreciated the constant presence of her bodyguard more than she ever had before. It was a reminder of how her life used to be, and how it would be again, once her brother came. Gizel called her brother and his army the rebels, but Lym knew better. The people of Falena would support the prince over the Godwins… wouldn’t they?

It was walking these halls that Lymsleia had her first contact with Lord Godwin since the Sacred Games.

Well, if you could even call it contact. He simply walked right past her, with not so much as a nod in her direction. She knew he’d seen her, he’d had to. “How rude!” she exclaimed, and he did not turn around or give any sign he’d heard.

Miakis patted her shoulder. “There, there, Princess, I wouldn’t worry about it. Consider yourself lucky you don’t have to talk to him.”

Later, Lym would realize the wisdom of Miakis’s words.

-

Dolph never spoke to her, either. He followed Gizel like a shadow, but she guessed she’d rather he did that, because when she didn’t see him around that could only mean bad news. What was worst was that every time Dolph looked at Lym, he seemed to be smiling. It made Lym want to slap him, to knock the smile of his face, because no one around here had a reason to smile anymore as far as she could tell. Except perhaps the Godwins, with their perverted view of all that was going on. Dolph certainly should not smile, not with what he had done. What right does an assassin have to smile?

Lymsleia thought maybe the smiling was worse than the killing. What sane person could murder another human being in cold blood and still smile?

That was the answer, she supposed. Not a sane person. The more relevant question, perhaps, was what sane person could employ such soldiers? Lym had heard whispers that Nether Gate had killed Marscal Godwin’s wife, Gizel’s mother, and that only made it worse. Had they no feelings at all? These were not the men Falena needed in charge.

-

Oh, but Lymsleia had wanted to bear the Sun Rune! For one glorious moment she hadn’t cared that Gizel was manipulating her into carrying it, she’d thought only of all that she could do with the Rune. Kill the Godwins, and Alenia and Zahhak too, and Dolph and all the others who followed them. Save her family, and her country. She didn’t care what the price was, how many had to die, because they would only get what they deserved, and she would be sparing so many more lives of people who actually were worth it.

If only she could have borne the Sun Rune, she could have saved everyone. She wouldn’t have had to wait any longer for her brother and she could have ended the war herself. Proactive, instead of reactive.

One glorious moment.

And then she’d realized it had all been just another game.

-

It was after the incident with the Sun Rune that Gizel started to have two of his guards trail Lymsleia wherever she went. She hadn’t said anything about them as they followed her back to her room as she’d assumed they were only the two returning to their post outside her door (she’d protested that at first, but with no change). However, when she left the next morning to sit in the palace gardens, there they were again, just a step behind.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The guards exchanged glances. They were both young, probably only around Miakis’s age, most likely proud and honored by their station. Lym felt badly for them, that they couldn’t see what it was their lords _really_ were doing.

One of the men pointed a finger at his chest. “Me, Your Highness?” His rusty reddish hair curled under his cap, and Lym thought she could hear a tremble in his voice.

“Yes, you! Both of you! What do you think you’re following me for?”

“Highness, we only-- Sir Gizel said--”

At a helpless glance from his companion, the second guard began to speak. Though taller than the first, he stooped and his shoulders were slightly rounded. His voice held more authority. “Princess Lymsleia, we are under orders from Sir Gizel to accompany you whenever you leave your quarters, as protection.”

“Protection?” Miakis broke in. “I am the Princess’s bodyguard, and as such it is _my_ duty toprotect her!”

“Yes!” Lymsleia added. “I don’t need any of _Gizel’s_ guards following me. Probably useless anyway…”

“What seems to be the trouble? Perhaps I can help.”

The two women resignedly turned at the voice, while the soldiers stood to attention. Lym saw the stooping guard even straightened his back.

“Sir Gizel,” said the first, the quiver in his voice still evident, “we were simply explaining our presence to Her Highness and Lady Miakis.”

Gizel smiled. “Ah, I see. I trust you have no objections to this arrangement, Princess?”

“Objections? Of course I have objections!”

Miakis gently ushered Lymsleia aside. “You know that I’m the Princess’s bodyguard. She doesn’t need anyone else to protect her!”

“But, Lady Miakis, wouldn’t you agree that a few extra pairs of eyes-- and swords-- could only be beneficial?”

“I-- well, I…”

Both Gizel’s smile and his tone were conciliatory, yet condescending. “After all, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to the Princess, would we? I have no doubt of your skill, Lady Miakis, but I think it’s better to be safe than sorry, as they say. Carry on then, gentlemen,” he nodded to the guards and strode away.

Lymsleia clenched her fists. “How dare he!”

Frowning, Miakis led her charge forward with a hand to the small of her back. She glanced behind at the guards, following closely. “It’ll be alright, Princess. Like he said, two extra swords.”

Lymsleia stared at her feet and didn’t try to lower her voice. “We both know why they’re there, Miakis.”

The bodyguard sighed. “Yes, Princess,” she whispered. “I think you’re right.”

-

It was through indirect means only that Lymsleia heard of the attack on the beavers. She heard from Miakis, who heard from Galleon, who heard from Alenia, who of course knew from Gizel. It left a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, to know that during the night, while she’d been asleep, an entire race had nearly been exterminated. Only her brother had kept it from happening.

After she heard, she raved to Miakis, and she endeavored not to speak with Gizel at all. But when she saw him as she was walking the halls, her temper won out and she spat, “How could you! You… you animal! What gives you the right to make attacks on other living creatures?”

“Why, Princess, don’t you want a Falena for Falenans?” She hated how Gizel could sound so innocently questioning.

“That’s ridiculous! The beavers are as much Falenans as you are!”

Gizel shook his head. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“And I’m sorry you’re such a jerk!” Lymsleia blushed after she spoke-- that was not the most effective retort, and she could see the laughter dancing in Gizel’s eyes. “The beavers are better than you’ll ever be,” she finished, and spun on her heel, back to her room.

-

“Damn him!” Lymsleia fumed, in the safety of her bedroom with Miakis as her only company. There never was relief, it seemed. Always something was happening, something terrible, something like being tricked into taking the throne.

The bodyguard’s brown eyes widened. She said softly, “Princess…”

Lym continued as though there hadn’t been an interruption. “How dare he! How dare he _use_ me like that! Threatening you… I’m the _princess!_ He has such nerve, the… the… There’s not even a word bad enough to call him!”

Miakis rested a hand on Lymsleia’s shoulder. “Princess, please… You shouldn’t have done that. You know what he’ll do, once he is able to take command of the Queen’s Knights. Look at what he has done already! You will be the queen, but he…”

“I know,” Lymsleia sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed, her rage evaporating into an uneasy despair. She twisted her hands in her lap, staring intently down at them. “I know what he’ll do. But Miakis… If he had done… what he said he’d do… Miakis, you’re all I have!” She turned her eyes, wide and scared, on her bodyguard. “You’re all I have…”

Miakis’s own eyes filled with tears as she took a seat next to her charge and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling the girl close. “Oh, Princess…”

“Brother will come save us, I know it. He’ll fix everything.” Lym could hear the desperation in her own voice.

_He has to._

-

In the days leading up to her coronation, Lymsleia thought often how silly the Sacred Games were, that a ten year old girl should be forced to marry a twenty-three year old man, a man who had once been affianced to her aunt Sialeeds, a long time ago. The Sacred Games had opened the door into this mess, allowed a family to take control of Falena, to… her parents… her brother…

When she was Queen, when she was _really_ Queen, she was going to abolish the Sacred Games. Princesses would be able to choose their own husbands. That way no one would ever be driven into an arranged marriage, a possibly loveless marriage, and no one would be able to use the Games to put themselves in the position the Godwins had. The royal family had to protect themselves from being used.

Lymsleia knew… she was lucky that Gizel only wished to use her politically, and not in other ways.

-

Lymsleia wanted to be a good queen. She wanted to be as great a queen as her mother, with a husband she loved as much as her mother loved-- had loved-- her father. She wanted her husband to be a man deserving of the respect of the knights who served him.

Never had she dreamed of this farce her life had turned into.

Her coronation had always been meant to be a glorious occasion, with all the people she loved by her side, with true smiles and laughter. Lymsleia had often imagined what her dress would look like, and how the new Commander would tell her in a hushed voice how magnificent she looked. And… she would have been ready to be queen, to rule the country of Falena the way she’d hoped she could. She would have been more than merely a scared little girl who only wanted to be held by her mother again, to be teased by her father, to share adventures with her brother. More than simply “little Lym”.

But Lym had never quite thought, before, that if she were being crowned Queen of Falena, her mother would probably be dead.

She did not love her fiancé-- in fact, she hated him. She hated his cold eyes and his polite words when he was manipulating everyone and had arranged for the deaths of so many people. She hated the disinterested way he looked at her, as if she were unimportant and meant nothing, and she hated how he pretended as though he were actually in the right. Most of all, she hated how when she’d first looked at Gizel Godwin after knowing he had applied to compete for her hand she’d found him attractive, had been passingly jealous even of her beautiful and mature aunt Sialeeds who’d loved him, and whom he’d loved. Demons shouldn’t wear such angel faces.

This was her life now. Dreams meant nothing, like wisps of smoke in the air, insubstantial and quickly fading as though they never were to begin with. All they were was a waste of time and energy that would be better spent on trying to rectify her situation.

In the night, however, her dreams had a way of surfacing. Troubled thoughts turned into a troubled sleep, interrupted by nightmares of her parents murdered in the palace, blood seeping through her mother’s gown, her tears dripping onto the cold face of her father; the prince escaping only to be caught by assassins with chilling laughs and sharp knives; Aunt Sialeeds weeping as Lym had never seen her do until her eyes close forever--

But sometimes they weren’t nightmares at all, but lovely dreams of holidays and celebrations, everyone alive and smiling, the country at peace. When these dreams faded into the stark realization of the morning, it was worse than the nightmares.

-

There was a celebratory dinner held after Lymsleia’s coronation ceremony. Not that she felt much like celebrating, but Gizel and his father had arranged it, and it was a tradition. Lym felt she had had quite enough of traditions, but of course as the new queen she knew she had to keep her mask of forced politeness and fake smiles. She _would_ be a good queen, no matter the circumstances.

But she felt tiny sitting on the-- her mother’s-- throne, and insignificant. She felt as small as she had when Gizel had slipped the crown on her head and her chin had dipped down from the weight. She thought of her mother, sitting on this throne, tall and regal and beautiful, the crown looking as if it were meant to rest atop her silvery hair.

Lymsleia felt an imposter in comparison.

She watched Gizel conversing with everyone and found herself jealous at the ease with which he did so. He charmed the women with his good looks and feigned interest in them, and he knew just what to say to all the men, from the least important noble present to the leader of the Island Nations. Whether a man such as Skald Egan bought Gizel’s clever lies was a different story, but at least he could make a good show of selling himself. His evident skill of course merely strengthened Lymsleia’s own determination to do the same, to make everyone feel welcome, to show them she could do her duty. From across the room, she caught Miakis’s eye and tried to smile, though she knew if she couldn’t fool herself with it she certainly could not fool her bodyguard.

Except… Miakis was not her bodyguard any longer, was she? It fell to the Commander of the Queen’s Knights to look after the queen. Gizel was supposed to protect her now. Lym feared she would be seeing far less of Miakis from now on.

“Lym!”

Lymsleia turned towards the sound of her name and watched the Oracle walk from Galleon’s side. She nodded and stood up (gracefully, she hoped). “Hello, Haswar. It’s… nice to have the opportunity to speak with you again.”

“Please, Lym, don’t be so formal with me!” Haswar smiled, and Lym found it hard to tell if the smile was false or not. “You look so lovely, dear!”

“Thank you.”

Her smile faded as she said, softer now, “I only wish the circumstances of our meeting again were different. Your parents… You poor thing…”

As Lymsleia looked up into the kind face of her mother’s cousin, she couldn’t help but notice the fine lines around Haswar’s eyes that she didn’t remember being there before, and the wet shine of unshed tears.

“Oh, Lym… my little Lym…” Haswar pulled the young queen into her arms and held her tightly.

Lym knew she must have looked not a little undignified, but she couldn’t quite seem to care. Without her mother, without Aunt Sialeeds, Haswar was the closest person Lym had to a mother, and sometimes… she just needed to be held.

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore Haswar’s quiet sobs.

-

True to her expectations, in the days following her coronation Lymsleia saw Miakis rarely. Their brief sojourns were the more joyous for their stolen air, so when one afternoon Miakis seemed sad and withdrawn, the new queen grew immediately suspicious. “Miakis,” she said, “what is it? What’s the matter?”

“Oh, Princess,” her former bodyguard said in a choked sob, her eyes welling with tears. “Gizel’s making me go with Alenia to Doraat, to fight the Prince! Princess, I’m so sorry!”

“What?” Lymsleia could not think of anything to say, her mind stunned. Miakis was leaving? She had never before been without her bodyguard, and more importantly, her closest friend. Miakis was going to fight Brother? That was… that was…

“Princess, please say something!”

Lym opened and shut her mouth, rather like a fish. She swallowed and tried again. Her mouth felt very dry. “Miakis, don’t leave! You can’t!”

“I’m sorry, Princess,” she said, tears clinging to her eyelashes. “Don’t you see? Gizel took you from me. He won’t let me protect you… I have to do this! It’s all there is for me now. I’m… I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m sorry I can’t protect you anymore.”

“Miakis…” And Lymsleia threw herself into the young woman’s arms, her own tears now spilling down her cheeks.

-

“Your Majesty!”

“Yes?” Lymsleia tried not to sound startled at the phrase she still associated with her mother and turned. “Oh, Galleon! Please, tell me what’s happened in Doraat! Do you know? Tell me!”

Galleon’s worn and weathered face was crinkled in worry. “I am sorry, Your Majesty. Lady Alenia was defeated and Lady Miakis… Lady Miakis has gone with the rebels.”

Lym clenched a fist over her heart. “Gone…? Miakis…” She closed her eyes.

“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” he said again, his voice heavy with regret. The young queen wondered how many things he was apologizing for.

Lymsleia placed her small hand in one of his large and callused ones. “Galleon… don’t you see? Miakis is with my brother now. She’s free from all this, and she can help him! I’m only being selfish wishing her back here again.”

Galleon frowned down at her. “Your Majesty--”

“You know what the Godwins have done, Galleon!” she interrupted. “You don’t support them, do you? You know what they’ve done!”

His eyes darted from her face and to her Godwin guards, and to the wall behind her. “Yes, I know. But His Majesty Sir Gizel is now Commander of the Queens’ Knights and I take my orders from him. I serve you, Your Majesty, but Commander Gizel also has my loyalty. Do you… can you understand that?”

“Galleon…” She withdrew her hand and stepped back. “Galleon, please…”

With some effort, Galleon directed his gaze to Lymsleia again and smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Good day, Your Majesty.”

Lym wondered whether, with Miakis gone, she had lost her only ally.

-

Gizel had always seen fit to inform Lymsleia of the state of the war. She’d assumed he’d done it to unnerve her, but now it was his duty. As the Queen of Falena, it was her right to know the happenings of her country, and he needed to keep up the charade for his plans to work. But, being Gizel, of course he always tried to do so in a way to unsettle her-- it was in the way he delivered news and in the details he added or omitted.

As he was doing today.

“There is… one other thing, my lady,” he said now, turning back towards her, as though it were an afterthought. “I know that you are under the impression that it was I who killed your parents, but that is just an unfortunate misunderstanding. I would hope that you can believe I would _never_ do such a thing.”

Lym narrowed her eyes. “Afraid you’d soil your clothes? Get a blister on your perfect hands?” she taunted. “Or maybe just afraid my father would kill you before you could even draw your sword? I always did find it a bit hard to believe it was actually _you_ who’d committed the act. But, as it was on your orders, it’s all the same to me. I do hope you understand.”

“Point taken, Your Majesty,” he said with a nod of his head. “However… you are quite mistaken. You see-- and I must confess I’m rather surprised Miakis never told you, as I know she was there, but I suppose she wanted to spare you the pain. Because, you see, it was Georg who killed your parents.”

“Liar! How dare you speak such lies to me!” Lymsleia slapped her small hand across Gizel’s face with all her strength, but she couldn’t quite reach. With less than the force she’d wanted her fingertips grazed the side of his face, his mouth to his chin. The sight of a red bead of blood, however, brought her no small satisfaction.

Gizel raised his own hand to his face and touched his lips, staring at the blood that came away on his fingers. “Now, now, my lady. That’s no way to treat your husband! I only thought you should know the truth, that’s all. Perhaps… I was mistaken.”

“You’re lying,” she said, but she thought maybe she sounded less convincing this time. “You’re lying.” Gizel merely continued to stare down at her, as though he were daring her to believe it. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t. Not Georg. This was just another trick, another game. He enjoyed watching her struggle.

Yes, that was it. A game, and she could deal with that. Hadn’t she been dealing with games since the night Gizel had moved into the palace?

Lymsleia straightened her back and tilted her chin up, meeting Gizel’s gaze. “Is this how you amuse yourself?” she asked. “Do you lie awake at night, thinking of things to say to try to upset me? Well, it won’t work, and I do hope that as the illustrious Commander of the Queen’s Knights you have better ways to make use of your time.”

Gizel bent at the waist, and when he again stood straight he was just barely smiling. “Of course, Your Majesty. But please, think on this matter a little more. Perhaps it will be easier to take at a later time.”

Infuriated, she glared at his retreating back and sat heavily back down. He was sick; he was a monster; she hated him.

“What are you staring at!” Lymsleia yelled at the guards stationed by her, who were quick to mumble reassurances and bow in deference. Lifting her skirts, she got up again and strode out the doors and back to her room, as quickly as her short legs would allow. She was too angry even to remember the guards would still be following her. They always were.

-

In the scant years of her life, Lymsleia had never wished for anything so hard as she wished for her plan to work. If only she could keep the battle going long enough for her brother to reach her… She knew the odds were not in her favor. Gizel’s-- _her_ army far outnumbered that of her brother’s, and she knew Gizel would put Zahhak in charge of directing the units, and he had a shrewd mind. She knew if her brother were to make it that Galleon would try to stop him. Galleon had been doing his best to keep her safe, she knew, but she also knew he took his duty as a Queen’s Knight, his loyalty to Commander Gizel, very seriously. He would try to stop the Prince.

Lym would just have to count on him listening to her word as Queen above Gizel’s.

Huddled in a corner on her bed, hugging her arms tightly around her middle, Lym watched the sunset through her window. She would be leaving in the morning. She wished Miakis were there with a smile and a laugh. Just a little longer, and she’d see her bodyguard again. She’d see her brother, and Aunt Sialeeds, and Lyon. Kyle and Georg. Would Georg even be with her brother? Gizel had said-- But of course that wasn’t true. Miakis had been very tight-lipped about that night and Lym had never quite wanted to ask. It was too late now, but she’d know soon. She’d know, and the war would be over. No more killing and no more dying.

Just a little longer.

-

After their return to the Sun Palace, Lymsleia had actively avoided Aunt Sialeeds. Huh… Aunt. Lymsleia felt she couldn’t really call her that anymore-- _Aunt_ Sialeeds. Aunt Sialeeds never would’ve betrayed her family like that, prolonged a war for her own purposes (or for Gizel’s purposes?), kept her niece and nephew apart, kept her niece a captive in her own home. A captive queen. No, not Aunt Sialeeds.

Just Sialeeds, then.

(But Sialeeds had always hated being called “aunt”-- said it made her feel old. So maybe Lym _should_ call her aunt? To upset her? But she wouldn’t call Sialeeds that in her head.)

Despite Lym’s best efforts, however, it was impossible to avoid her completely. Lymsleia had spent the morning in the garden, thinking of Lyon and hoping she was alright, cursing Dolph and Sialeeds both. Upon her exit, she nearly walked straight into the older woman. Sialeeds looked down at her with what might almost have been a smile on her face, her voice as calm and cool as Gizel’s.

They would have made a perfect match, Lymsleia thought bitterly.

“Hello, Lym. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Lymsleia crossed her arms over her chest. “I suppose.”

“I was thinking of sitting in the garden myself, actually.”

“Then I’m glad I’m finished already.”

Sialeeds’ mouth twitched. “Right. Of course you couldn’t sit with your aunt. Not after…”

“I hate you,” Lymsleia hissed.

Sialeeds sighed. “I know,” she said, voice soft, and walked past her down the hall.

Lymsleia stared after her, wondering why Sialeeds had not defended herself, had not tried to make Lym _not_ hate her. She wondered what Sialeeds was thinking, why she’d done what she’d done, what she was doing with Gizel.

Then she stopped wondering, because she decided she didn’t care. Sialeeds was not the person Lym had thought she was. Not anymore, and maybe not ever.

-

Lymsleia didn’t know Childerich had been named a Queen’s Knight until she saw him dressed in the garb of the Knights. She stared at him as he came towards her down the hall-- she didn’t recall seeing him since the Godwins had first taken control of the palace.

“Queen Lymsleia! How do you like my new attire?” Childerich asked, spreading out his arms and turning this way and that, as though he were modeling. “It suits me, don’t you think?”

“I think not! How dare Gizel name _you_ to the Queen’s Knights!”

“Oh, I think it was a wonderful decision, myself. I can’t wait till I can crush that brother of yours, like an insect under my toe…” As they’d been speaking, the assassin had gotten closer and closer, till he gripped her by the shoulders. “It will be a pleasure to help my country by ridding it of such a traitor.”

“Don’t… touch… me!” She stomped her foot as hard as she could on Childerich’s, grinding her heel forcefully.

“Insolent little girl!” he snarled, releasing her. His lips were still bared in a mirthless smile, but his eyes were full of fire. “You should think again before insulting me, if you know what’s good for you!”

Lymsleia drew herself up to her full height, however slight. “And you should think twice before laying a finger on the Queen of Falena, if you know what’s good for _you!”_

He laughed. “Stupid girl. I could kill you so fast no one would ever be the wiser.”

A chill quivered through Lym’s body at his cold voice and harsh words, but she would not be intimidated. “Are you threatening me? All I have to do is say the word and you’re as good as dead! Even your precious Commander has to listen to me.”

“His _Commandership,”_ Childerich’s voice dripped with sarcasm, “is not my master. While the killing’s good, I’ll help him, but I won’t forever. And when it’s time for me to go…” His smile was a sneer now. “You’ll be the first to know, little queen.”

Lymsleia shivered as she tried to ignore the complete lack of sound his footsteps left as he walked down the hall and out of sight.

-

There was always time enough for Lymsleia to fill her mind with what ifs and possibilities, whys and wherefores, even more so as the war stretched on. After all, Miakis was gone, Galleon was gone, Haswar was gone. Sialeeds, Alenia, Zahhak, and the Godwins had no time for her even had she wanted them to. All she had was her own mind, for good or for bad.

What would have happened had Euram Barows won the Sacred Games? Lymsleia knew it was no use thinking about it-- just as it was no use wishing Belcoot had won his final match-- as of course he had not, and she also knew that Gizel had probably had plans enough to stop it from happening. But she couldn’t help but wonder, anyway. It was her own brand of torture, she supposed.

Euram actually _liked_ her. She detested him, the cowardly fop, but he admired her. Gizel thought nothing of her beyond what use she was to him, but Euram would have loved her. Would that have been better? Lymsleia knew she never would have loved him back, but perhaps one-sided love would have been easier to cope with than the coldness of Gizel. At least it would have been something she could’ve used to her own advantage.

But she would have been in the same situation anyway, wouldn’t she? Salum Barows would have used her for his own ends just as the Godwins were, and at least Gizel was a competent Commander for the Queen’s Knights.

However, there was one thing that Lymsleia knew would have been worth everything. The one reason she would have chosen Barows over Godwin in a heartbeat.

Whatever their failings, Salum and Euram Barows would not have killed her family.

They had not the strength for it.

-

After Stormfist was taken (liberated), the Sun Palace was palpably filled with a heightened sense of urgency, of desperation. The soldiers seemed worried and even scared. They did not know what would happen, and many probably expected the worst.

Lymsleia was not allowed anywhere near the sealed room. Not that she’d been allowed before (only that once, and she cared not to think of that), but if she even stepped within feet of the staircase, her guards led her away. She didn’t make it easy for them, of course, but they were after all men, and much bigger than she. It wasn’t as though Lym even _wanted_ to go up there, but it was the principle of the thing, that the Queen of Falena could not even enter the rooms of her own palace at will. Not even her spoken commands would get her closer-- on this matter, the soldiers firmly obeyed Gizel over their Queen.

This did not sit well with Lymsleia.

Gizel himself was scarcely to be found. A welcome development, to be sure, but it made Lym fear what he was plotting. She had not seen Marscal Godwin for longer than she could recall. Alenia was even more irritable than usual, and there was a skittish look in her eyes that reminded Lym of a beaten dog. Zahhak was dour and spoke rarely. As for Dolph, well… she assumed he was closeted with the Godwins.

Sialeeds had returned from Stormfist in a foul temper-- because she’d been beaten, no doubt. Lymsleia saw her here and there, and desperately wanted to speak with her-- though she didn’t quite know why.

Maybe that was it-- why. She wanted to know _why_ Sialeeds was doing this, why she was siding with the Godwins, why she was fighting Brother. Lym wanted to know _what_ she was doing, why she was so busy, what her plans were. She wanted to see the Rune on Sialeeds’ hand, one of the Runes that was causing so much strife. A Rune Sialeeds had gotten when Lymsleia herself could not bear the Sun Rune.

She knew that many soldiers had died at Stormfist. Those remaining often spoke of the massacre in the Stormfist arena, how hundreds of men had been taken out in one fell swoop. A surprise magical attack, from one of their own.

From Sialeeds.

And how could she have done that? What was worth stealing so many lives? Lymsleia feared Sialeeds now more than she’d ever feared Gizel.

-

Darkness had already fallen but Lymsleia stayed awake in her room. Not because she was afraid, not this time.

Lymsleia stared out the window unseeingly. If she listened closely, she could almost _hear_ her brother’s army approaching, the swift even striking of their boots on the ground, the rustle of the wind through their hair, the whisper of the promise they brought with them. She could hear the bows of the ships skim over the rivers, the whistle of their arrows across the skies, and the clang of their swords.

The idea of liberation, of _victory,_ awakened a fierce hope inside her she’d forgotten she could feel. “Brother,” she said, and again, louder, like a prayer, her breath moistening the windowpane.

She knew he would come.

He was almost here.

-

Lymsleia was trying to be brave. She was trying to be like her mother, to support all the men she knew were dying in her name, just outside the walls of Sol-Falena. She had told Gizel that it was important for her to stay, and it was, but now she could only sit on the throne and try not to think of what was happening outside the city.

“Your Majesty,” Gizel said, and she wondered how long he’d been standing there. She was startled to see a crack in his cool façade, a sadness and a resignation in his eyes. “Your Majesty, Lady Sialeeds… I am afraid Lady Sialeeds has been killed.”

“What?” she gasped. “That’s not… you’re…” But she knew it was true and she knew that she cared. She did not hate her aunt, only what she’d done, and she was sorry it had taken all this to realize it. Why had everything turned out this way? Lymsleia felt her eyes start to water and she bit her lip so hard she drew blood. Gizel handed her a handkerchief and turned aside.

As she discretely dabbed at her lip and at her eyes and tried hard not to think of Sialeeds _(cold and dead like Mother and Father),_ Gizel spoke again. “You’ll be happy I’m sure to know that the rebel army has pushed our forces back. Doubtless your brother is heading our way now. I told Alenia and Zahhak… I told them to leave, but I don’t think they listened.”

“What…” She cleared her throat and started again. “What are you going to do? You can still leave here.”

He laughed softly and shortly. “Yes, Your Majesty, you’re right. I could. But I’d rather hoped you thought better of me than that? I am your husband, and regardless of whether you think you need it or not, I am here to protect you. And I believe… I would like to talk to your brother, when he arrives.”

For the first time Lymsleia noticed the sword hanging at Gizel’s waist. She stared at his face, but he wasn’t looking at her.

Lym shrank back in the throne, feeling smaller than ever. It took all her effort to not think of Sialeeds, to not think of the war, to not think of Gizel and his sword and what he was planning to do _(hadn’t he spoken to her of desperation?)_. For the first time a small sense of dread crept through her at the thought of the arrival of her brother.

-

Lymsleia had never thought Gizel a particularly courageous man, nor an honorable one. He thought nothing of having others fight for him, of arranging murders, of allowing the extermination of races that weren’t his own. But… there was a certain sense to his madness, wasn’t there? In hindsight, maybe there had been a reason behind the Dark Arcanum on the night of her engagement, a reason that wasn’t totally to his own benefit. She knew he’d tried to get Alenia and Zahhak to leave him and save themselves. And twisted as his vision and his actions had been, hadn’t he just been trying to make Falena his, like Mother and Father had done, like Brother was doing? He did love his country, as Lymsleia did.

One thing she did not know… was how much of what Gizel did was because Marscal Godwin wanted it. She had no doubts Gizel was manipulative, that he enjoyed playing games with other people’s lives, but was his vision of Falena really _his_ vision? Or was it his father’s? How much, if any, of his behavior could be attributed to the Sun Rune? (Lym was not stupid enough or blind enough not to have seen through her family’s attempts to shield her from the truth; she knew the Rune had affected her mother.) It probably didn’t matter. What he did was still wrong and she didn’t know if she could ever forgive him, or if he even deserved to be forgiven.

She wondered… why she even cared. She had not before… before…

Gizel had not run, when he’d had the chance. He was not a coward. He’d stayed… why? To protect her? She hadn’t needed him, of course-- why would she need to be protected when her brother was coming for her? Gizel had known that-- he’d stayed anyway. To see her brother-- when he knew what would inevitably result of it? To make idle threats against her life, when they both knew he didn’t mean them? He hadn’t killed her. He couldn’t kill her.

Lymsleia hated Gizel. She hated his continual underestimation of her. She hated him for what he’d done to her, to her family and to her country, and she hated what he had made her brother do. He’d made the prince kill him, soiled his hands with blood.

She hated violence. She’d known that since the first match of the Sacred Games. Lym knew, now, why Gizel had wanted her to flee. Not only to spare her from the sight of the dying men, the violence of the pivotal, desperate fight. He hadn’t wanted her to see him fight her brother. It was all so stupid-- what was the point, when he’d known he’d lost the war? Why give up his life, too? It seemed… meaningless.

But she knew it wasn’t. It _was_ stupid, but… also kind of brave. He was too proud to just give up, to surrender (the idiot). It was his own sense of honor, she supposed. So Gizel had fought, and he’d made her brother kill him. That was why she cried. The enormity of the moment, of being reunited with her brother finally, of watching a young man she knew draw his last breath, dying before her eyes… That was why she cried.

It had to be.

-

It was late before Lymsleia returned to her rooms, and strangely quiet. The palace had been so full and noisy since the end of the war, people always coming and going. Lym enjoyed it, because the majority of the time the people were happy and laughing and it had been so long since she’d felt so at ease. Of course, not everyone was, some of the nobles were… upset at the new direction she was taking the country, to say the least, but Lym didn’t mind because of the simple fact that _she_ was dealing with them, she and her brother, and not anyone else. It was what she’d dreamed of for so long.

And when the business of the day was finished (and there was _so much_ of it), she just sat and talked, with her brother and Miakis and Lyon, for hours. They talked of everything, and nothing, and what fell between. She felt she’d never tire of talking with them.

Sometimes, too, Lym and her brother just… sat together. She’d curl up on his bed with his arm around her shoulders and they wouldn’t even say anything. It was enough to simply _be._ It was everything.

She still missed her parents and she still was anxious about being queen. She didn’t always know what to do or what to say and she often felt nervous, embarrassed, _wrong._ But that was okay; it was all right. She knew she would make mistakes and she knew she could always ask for help. It would have been nice, obviously, to have the opportunity to sit down with her parents and ask _them_ for advice, but she was dealing. She was learning. And somehow Lym knew that her mother and father were helping her all the same.

Lymsleia would be a good queen, as her mother had been.

Lymsleia still thought and dreamed at night. She dreamed of her mother and father and Aunt Sialeeds, and sometimes she couldn’t help crying. At times her dreams were pleasant, and at other times… not so pleasant. But she knew that Miakis was asleep in the room next to hers, and Brother was not far away. In the morning, the sky brightened and the sun rose and while she couldn’t know exactly what the day would bring, she did know that she could manage it.

As she rested her head against the soft pillows, Lym realized… she wasn’t afraid of the night anymore.


End file.
